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In a calm suburb of Dublin, a person can be found in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of modern television terrain, this series arrives similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s understated story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing critically above its eyewear at anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those content to wander out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths that have brought him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; writing a range of educational volumes for an employer who ends correspondence saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, guide and partner in a weekly game night that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the nickname appears lost in history. Maybe he previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening several snacks using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a new energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the actor) at a fire practice. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who privately views, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and starts off as just an interruption?” that's accurate. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing in life as cheering as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.